The tables turned

The wall plug plunges down into the depths, an interwoven network of tangled frames and connections 

For I am standing at a point on the earth, between an army and an ocean

But i do not cease i do not struggle, toil or relent

I am at one with you but walk at an arms length,

merging into the stratosphere the walls, windows, tables and door’s

The clementine stands on the bed squirming and turning, it rotates like a turbine powered spasmodic cylinder engine

And as the sparrow hawk soars right up to the edge of everything it spirals down to the descent, climbing, gliding and re-aligning itself

Soaking up the atmosphere

becoming at one with the furniture, separating into stealth, as it bursts through the skyline with glee

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